Rhythm Heaven Tales
by J.C. Doggendoodle
Summary: (There isn't enough RH fanfiction on this site...) Tales from the land that runs on rhythm, that brims with the beat, with sound in its soul- I think you get it now! (Covering Megamix first, will be covering games not in it later.)
Chapter 1: Humble Beginnings

Karate Joe swept the broken pieces of pottery into the pile of "I'll-deal-with-it-eventually" pile to the tune of "Sighing". It got lonely in the dojo when no-one else was around. Thankfully, the Fillbot factory had made a machine specifically designed to launch stuff, just for him, but it had a horrible habit of-

*SMASH*

-doing that. Sighing some more, he dropped the broom and went into the other room.

Karate Joe was one of the first people to move into Rhythm Heaven when it first popped up out of nowhere. He remembered how strange the concept of "a world run by rhythm" sounded to him. Granted, it wasn't exactly a concept that grew any less strange with every passing day, but he'd gotten used to it.

Joe's first course of action was to look for where the shot had gone. The usual places – under the table, in the wardrobe and behind the machine (because screw the laws of reality) – turned out to be empty, but Karate Joe couldn't shake the feeling that something was... strangely colder. He looked to the window, expecting to see it open, but instead, it was broken. He looked out the hole and saw his soccer ball.

He wanted to be a soccer* player when he was younger. He enjoyed the sport, but his father, who was a black-belt in karate and ridiculous hairstyles, refused to entertain the idea. Eventually he got the soccer ball he had always wanted, but, as it turned out, he didn't use it for much other than karate practise. He did have the odd kick-about with those space kickers, but still.

Karate Joe was still reminiscing when the machine whirred to life again. Joe was snapped back to reality, but he only got the chance to turn around before he was bombarded by pots, bombs and light-bulbs. He fell through the crack in the window, cutting his left arm and lower right leg, and tumbled down the hill. The reeeeeeeeally steep hill.

It took a while for him to work up the willpower to move again, but he did eventually. Making his way to the dojo, he went up to the roof, stood at the front-facing side of the house, looked out to the red sunset, punched forward and yelled one word.

"WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY-"

But this Karateka** was strong.

This Karateka was a trooper.

This Karateka took his cereal nails without any milk!

...

...OK, he'd never eaten a nail, but you get the idea.

This Karateka was not going down without a fight.

The next day, Karate Joe was up at 4am training. He was determined to beat the machine at its own game. With some cool music playing in the background, he could take down anything to any rhythm, be it a plant pot or a-

*PLOP*

OK, so maybe he was a bit out of practise with hitting soccer balls, but he could totally-

*multiple misses later*

OK, never mind, that soccer ball psyched him out badly. (Yeah, that was the reason. Totally wasn't his own horrible ability when it came to punching.)

Karate Joe walked over to the soccer ball. He lifted his foot and gave an almighty KICK! The ball flew out the window. Satisfied, Joe turned around and ducked, avoiding the soccer ball's rebound.

"HA!" he yelled into the soccer ball. "Not so tough now, aren't ya?" He threw the ball into the pile of stuff (which had now reached the ceiling) and only realised his mistake when the pile came crashing down on top of him.

Sticking his head up from the pile, he noticed his makeshift bandages had been torn, and more cuts had formed. As his phone was on the other side of the room, he decided to put off calling the Rhythm Doctor until he could defeat the machine.

Climbing out of the rubble, he crossed his legs and began to meditate. A distinctive hum could be heard from throughout the dojo.

For about 5 minutes.

Karate Joe made a mental note to invite someone to the dojo next time he trained.

Apparently he had passed out from blood loss or something stupid like that. He wasn't really paying attention when the doctor talked to him. He did pay attention to the last thing he said before he left, though:

"And no karate practise for you until you get better!" Karate Joe had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't having a nightmare. When he felt nothing, he was relieved until he realised he had no feeling in either of his arms.

But it wasn't all bad; his fingers were still intact, if a little bruised. I mean, surely a little karate wouldn't hurt, right?

Of course, if knocking on his friend's door hurt like hell, anything was fair game, he supposed.

The door stayed shut. Against his better judgement, Karate Joe went for another knock.

And instead his right arm met with the tip of the metronome Mr Upbeat was carrying.

Apparently he now had feeling in his arms again. Too much of it. Even to this day, Karate Joe has never screamed so loudly.

Thankfully, there were some bandages in Mr Upbeat's house. Joe sat, a shivering wreck, as Mr Upbeat wrapped his hand up.

"You look like you just fell through a landfill," Mr Upbeat said. Karate Joe rolled his eyes deep down on the inside. Outwardly he was too shaken to even actively do nothing. "What did you even come here for, anyway?" Mr Upbeat continued.

"Well, I was wondering if you could help me out in the dojo before I train tomorrow."

Mr Upbeat stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Joe in disbelief. This man, with all his cuts and bruises, was going to train again? And so soon? The doctor really should have warned him not to.

Going against all the better judgements, Mr Upbeat gave a confirmatory nod. He continued to his car, put the metronome inside and closed the boot. Karate Joe began to walk to the car and fell on the ground face first before finishing his first step. Sighing, Mr Upbeat dragged him into the passenger seat and drove back to the dojo.

Mr Upbeat opened the door to the dojo and swiftly closed it again, barely dodging a flying pot plant. "Is everything OK?" came a yell from the car.

Don't want to worry him. "Yep, everything's A-O-"

Thunk.

Karate Joe was out of the car in a flash, and tried to run over to Mr Upbeat (who had been knocked out by a lightbulb to the... flashy thingy) but faceplanted again. Sighing, he worm-wiggled to Mr Upbeat and stood up.

Looking in the door, he could see the machine firing away at the pile in the corner. He tried to sneak over to the radio to protect it, but the soccer ball bounced at him and knocked him over to the table. The machine went through a wall – one of the solid concrete walls – and that's when Joe knew he had to take matters into his own hands – fast.

Summoning the strength to stand up, he hit the radio and stood in position. Thankfully, since the world – and the robot – ran on rhythm, it calmed down. True to form, the robot began firing to the rhythm again, and Karate Joe began punching to said rhythm. The plant pots went flying straight out the window and off the nearby cliff. Joe was loving every second of it. Thing after thing, he punched away. Nothing could stop him, not even-

*PUNCH*

That blasted football. Joe smiled in triumph, having finally defeated it. He carried on punching until the last note, and then, with newfound strength, launched at the machine!

"Hyagh!" he cried as he kicked the machine into off mode. Joe smiled, and began humming a little ditty he'd heard a while back whilst sweeping the broken pottery and stuff into the black hole that sometimes appeared that he'd occasionally sweep rubbish into if he was feeling especially motivated.

*It's football though.

**It's Japanese for 'karate practitioner' and the Japanese name for the Karate Man games.


End file.
